When you read a lot of detective novels, you end up having the impression that there are only three cities in the United States: New York, Los Angeles and New Orleans mautadine (which, since Anne Rice has also invaded the fantasy novels).
So when I started reading the summary of Chasing the Devil , I winced. The first two words were: "New Orleans".
Then I kept reading: "1907". The blood of the historian has a beat: Southern United States, the middle of the era of racial segregation, a legacy of slavery, voodoo, jazz and mestizo populations ... Following the summary added yet another layer of sleazy to me at the time came to mind: "A crime wave swept the district [prostitutes], every time a black rose sign murder. Creole in a city where this fact does not play into his favor, but protected [by the man who rules the neighborhood], Detective Valentin St-Cyr tackles the case. "
I was enticed, it is the least we can say. I dove in the novel and I really enjoyed the descriptions of places, manners of the time. I left off elsewhere, in a very dark corner, but extremely rich in romantic tension in American history.
And then ... and then I started to get bored. The book so it has room enough to hook the reader in the first half of the story and the characters are likeable enough so we decided to follow them a little when the atmosphere starts to become known but the plot shortness of breath. However, it is a detective story, damn, the breathless plot is a bit the condition sine qua non of the genre ! One suspect is believed several people worry a bit for the detective who takes risks, see the shots coming just before the characters, story to worry about their fate ...
But in Chasing the Devil , none of this. Suspicions are scattered, the investigation follows a course constantly interrupted, the detective has just dropped the case ... and then he solves, leaving the culprit of his hat and with a rather convoluted explanation, thank you. Disappointment. As much as I hate to get to guess the culprit before the detective 300 pages, I hate to get served as much a culprit as anything, but nothing betokened.
Finally, the book is still read, for the atmosphere.
(Reading 2011 # 8)
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